Descent & Debrief – Summit to Paradise
A few minutes after 6:00 a.m., we roped back up with our team to descend. The almost painfully slow pace we maintained to reach the summit had noticeably quickened as we tried to make up for time spent dilly dallying at Columbia Crest. I panicked a little as my toes felt like they were getting crushed on each downstep. I had made a smug comment on the summit about how silly the villainization (is this a word) of these plastic boots was since mine carried me through the ascent just fine. Less than a few minutes off of the summit crater though, I realized I would likely lose a few toenails by the time we got back on the IMG bus. If you take anything from this blog, please let it be avoiding plastic double boots.
Aside from the boot drama and a brief issue with my glacier goggles loosening in an alarming way, the descent felt wildly euphoric. I had a shit eating grin on my face probably for the first hour or so, riding high on endorphins and success while we were treated to the views we missed on the first half of the trek as we ascended in darkness. Jagged layers of peaks in varying shades of blue made for a stunning backdrop – though I couldn’t make out any of them but Helens and Adams, and often mixed them up.
We stopped at High Bridge (13,000’ ish) for a beat so we could strip off some layers as the sun was starting to bake. I decided to keep the soft shell on until we hit the cleaver, which I would end up regretting almost immediately. I run warm always, but particularly at effort. At the Disney Marathon earlier this year, my friend Linzie kept a full terry cloth bathrobe (what a legend, truly) on for several miles, while I stripped to my sports bra and shorts after the first 15 minutes.
We weaved in and out of heavy mountain traffic, Lindsay expertly navigating us off of the boot pack and around other teams. She was so calculated and efficient in getting us down safely and once I got used to the pace, I was happy that we were making good time.
We passed through sections that I remembered vividly and some that seemed completely new, but this time we were able to see everything with brilliant clarity. The crevasses are absolutely unreal – the nooks and crannies and weaving textures of white and glacier blue is otherworldly and makes you feel like you’re on a different planet. It was tricky for me to land on a color in the past, but now when Sloane asks for my favorite, I can confidently and without hesitation say glacier blue.
We paused for what felt like a long time, somewhere around 12,300’, before making our way onto the Cleaver – I was nervous because I didn’t know how exposed this section was since we traversed it completely in the dark earlier. But honestly, aside from annihilating my feet, it really wasn’t that bad. I can still hear the sound of crampon on rock in my dreams though, and I wish I got some footage from this section, but scrambling made it next to impossible to pull out my phone.
After an hour and some change on the Cleaver, we took a break at Ingraham Flats.
The area between Ingraham Flats to Cathedral Gap was my ultimate favorite part of this climb. So much juxtaposition between textures and colors here – the rocks and crevasses helped to distract me from my increasingly aching feet and I stayed wide eyed and beaming throughout. Icicles dripped off of the icebox, ice “sculptures” were everywhere, and the wind swept peaks of ice meringue (penitentes, but I will forever call them ice meringue) from the last icefall collapse made the landscape look like something out of John Snow’s North.
There was a lot of exposed areas here between rockfall from the Cleaver and the icebox, and we often went ahead for a beat to look out for falling rock while the other groups in our parties crossed.
After Ingraham, it was a relatively quick hour or so back to Camp Muir. Excitement was high as we could start to see tents and the ridge. After traversing over to camp, we put our packs down and took a well deserved rest. I am proud to say that I did not have to pee that entire morning (hooray for dehydration), so the conveyer belt bathroom felt downright luxurious. IMG had hot coffee ready for us at the weatherport, and that felt like such a treat as we prepared to switch back to heavy packs and finish the last half of the climb to Paradise.
My morale slumped a bit after gathering my life together and packing up. My pack, overfilled and cumbersome, felt like it gained 10 lbs and was bursting at the seams like a can of biscuits, dangling with shoes and accessories, a far cry from the well-packed thing I came in with.
After reconvening at the ridgeline for a class picture, we all said goodbye to Muir and started our long walk back to Paradise.
We kept our eyes out for places to glissade and started to take those shortcuts almost immediately. Travis was kind enough to split his garbage bag with me to descend at top speed and our climbing party took turns joyfully cackling down the snow, loudly celebrating being alive.
From Muir, we only had one stop at Pebble Creek before hitting the Paradise parking lot. Spirits were pretty high still at Pebble, but started to fade a bit on the home stretch from there to Paradise. There was no glissading at this point so the pressure of toes digging into boots was the only thing Shannon and I could think about. Running long together to prep for Chicago in the middle of a Florida summer really tuned us in to each other’s breaking points, and I think we both really lost steam around the same time, deliriously marching on (and complaining) like drunken toddlers.
Happy my buff hid my attitude
James and Lindsay told us that we’ll know when we’re almost there when we start to smell perfume and see children – the younger the kids, the closer you are. We beamed at the new onslaught of miniature humans and when day hikers asked if we came from the top – it’s hard to express how proud I was when we got to beam back a proud ‘yes’.
When we finally got to parking lot, we gave Grace, Lindsay, Mike, and Atticus high fives while we waited on the rest of our crew. Our guides brought out chips and La Croix (amazing!) for everyone while we celebrated and got our stuff in the van.
We had lots of great omens throughout the climb and for this trip and finishing it off with a crispy La Croix, just like we do our long runs, felt like such a gift from the universe
Shannon and I cackled our way through the bus ride until we got to the IMG headquarters and had a great view of Rainier the whole way out. A Ben Kweller song played over the speakers, sparking a new hyperfixation on an artist I loved in the early 2000s but mostly forgot about.
When we arrived, we had a few minutes to put our packs in our cars, change into shorts and a top (what a treat after living in our soft shells for 3 days) and debrief with the team
The debrief is where IMG truly shined (though I am hard-pressed to find any area in which they did not truly shine, TBH). Our guides played “Celebrate” by Kool & the Gang and congratulated us on our summit, positivity, and energy as a team. We went around the circle and our team members and new friends shared some key takeaways and core moments that really stuck out. Offering a platform to express our gratitude and thoughts felt really special. Such a stark contract so our “debrief” after Baker, where we left the guidepost with a strange lack of pomp & circumstance – feeling a bit anticlimactic about the whole experience.
They also presented us with a sweet IMG shirt and some summit certificates (mine is now hanging in my office with my marathon bibs), starting with Mike’s who did not get to make the summit but was still appropriately celebrated for his positivity, teamwork, and fabulous mustache. We took turns signing the summit board as they told us about another tradition they uphold – any time we are in Ashford we can stop in at HQ for a hot beverage on the house.
In N.A., something we talk a lot about is being “in the care of” as it relates to our higher power and I can equate this big time to how I felt with IMG. I truly felt in the care of throughout the entire experience on Rainier. Everything felt thoughtful, intentional, and special. We signed our names on the summit board and left with full bursting hearts and wide smiles.
I do things often that surprise me. I remember when Rainier was just a fleeting thought, something that seemed completely out of reach. Sometimes our defects are both gifts and curses, and one that I’m burdened with often is selling myself short. But each time I set my sights on something, stay committed and follow through, I gain experience and trust in myself and my capabilities. I’ve done a lot of things over the last few years that I doubted I could complete, but continue to raise the bar on what I believe I’m capable of. I remember in 2019, the year Sam and I first decided to train for a half marathon with a terrible plan we printed off of the internet, thinking that I would never survive my 10 mile run, a PR for distance at the time. Now, my weekly 10 mile long run feels like it’s too short to count.
The summit statistics for Rainier are pretty grim – out of the 10,000 -11,000 folks who try to reach the top, only something like 50% make it. A lot of this is unrelated to fitness, as the mountain gets to decide whether or not to grant us passage. Travelling to Florida, the huge expenses that come with this trip, and the time commitment involved make me think that if we weren’t able to summit on this trip, I’m not sure if I’d have another chance. Truly grateful and humbled all the time that we were able to make these core memories. Rainier is so iconic, and my list of things to do in the PNW is never ending, looking forward to saying hello to my old friend every time I’m back.
If you’re reading this because Rainier is on your radar, but you’re not sure you can do it, here’s your sign from the universe. Do it.
MonicaSteps 
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